Tipsy Glorfindel
by Rochwen
Summary: The lord Glorfindel comes across some wine, and chaos ensues. O.o Rated T for themes of Extreme Silliness and Tipsiness.
1. One

A/N: This is inspired - nay, copy-pasted from an ongoing RP done between my good friend Furbeh and I. So only about half of this is mine. ^^ But review anyway. I like it.  
  
--- Chapter One ---  
  
The hidden valley of Imladris was bathed in a deep golden light. The sun was finally making her graceful descent below the western horizon, and was blazing in her full fiery display of glory. Her brilliance glittered like sparkling diamonds off the river Bruinen as it flowed noisily through the valley, and was reflected off of the jagged Misty Mountains, making their snowy peaks flame read. The clouds clustered around her as she sank, tinted a vivid orange, blue and purple.  
  
In the Last Homely House, a tall, golden-haired, grey-eyed elf was walking idly through one of its many outer halls. He was watching the patterns of the sun's light flicker and dance as the shadows lengthened across the smooth flagstone floors. Just moments ago the lord Glorfindel had been in the wine cellars, having a bit of a "talk" with a friend of his. The result, a slightly drunken Elven captain trouncing through the halls, just looking for some sort of trouble or entertainment to tide him over for a few hours.  
  
How this all came to be: a very busy day. He had been running hither and thither on different errands all day, for messengers and guests arrived since the sun had first risen. Elves came, as well as men and dwarves, all wanting counsel with the lord Elrond. There had not been such a variety of visitors since the beginning of the Third Age. This was on top of the hobbits that Aragorn had safely delivered there two nights ago. All in all, lord Glorfindel was quite content to let himself wind down. It was amazing what a few glasses of wine could do to calm one's temper and nerves. He looked about, hoping for some sort of entertainment or (preferably) company.  
  
Soft footsteps tapped down the polished floors, tracking a sludgy substance along them as well. "I hate mud. Hate it. hate it." The owner of the irritated speech also was responsible for the watery mess, although Elrohir really couldn't care less about such trivial matters at the moment. The younger of Elrond's twins was moping down the hall; usual clean attire and hair caked in brown mud. On their way back to Imladris, something had spooked Elrohir's horse, and sent him flying into ravine of thick and dirty water. while Elladan stood above laughing. And now comes home, and finds that his foster brother, four Hobbits, and several more visitors had arrived.  
  
A bit too concerned with his own thoughts and complaints, he didn't even see the tipsy Glorfindel up ahead, and narrowly missed running right into him. "For the love of Elbereth, watch where you-Oh. Hello. Lord Glorfindel."  
  
Elrohir really ought to have started watching where he was going.  
  
Glorfindel was ambling uncaringly down the hall, swaggering a bit as he did so. He almost walked right into a vase, and only his lightning-fast reflexes kept the antique from dropping to the floor in a pile of a thousand pieces. He let out a soft sigh of relief, and backed up, surveying his work. In his slightly adled state he became quite pleased with the way the vase looked, completely unharmed in every way. He turned around, quite content with himself, only to be nearly bowled over by one of the lord Elrond's twins. He let out a small yelp of surprise and took a step back, sadly toppling over the vase for real this time. He stood rigid, only flinching once the resounding crash broke through the room.  
  
"Oh good Elbereth..." he groaned.  
  
Storm-grey optics watched as the vase went crashing down, he himself wincing as it shattered. Elrohir pursed his lips, giving a half-apologetic smile. "I'm eh. sorry for startling you." He muttered, glancing away from Glorfindel. Maybe he should just slink off and hope he didn't even notice the Peredhel's presence. Not likely, but it's always alright to wish.  
  
Glorfindel blinked morosely at the mess on the ground, and hastily spun on his heel to face the twin. He blinked. He couldn't exactly tell which it was. Oh, they both looked the same anyway! His mind was working oddly slow. He turned back to look at the smashed vase, and then the twin again. He licked his lips, and then said,  
  
"Er - er - that's just fine, Elladan, fine," something struck him. This was a very old vase -- if Elrond knew how this got broken, his seneschal could get into some rather hot water. "Say - ah, excuse me..."  
  
He made to bustle past Elrohir, fleeing the scene, but he didn't realize that he was clinging to the twin's arm and bringing him with him. He stopped, realized what he was doing, and then continued doing it anyway. "Come with me. Er-- to the other side of the buildings. I think - I - forgot something there..."  
  
Elrohir arched a dark eyebrow, stumbling after the Elven captain, still leaving a trail of wet mud behind them. Was he just called-Elladan? He twitched, closing his eyes a moment. That was probably his biggest pet peeve: To get confused with his brother. It was so obvious who was who, after all. Their features differed. even if it took a decade to see how, be able to know who was Elladan, and who was Elrohir. He'd let it go. since it seemed Glorfindel was just a little tipsy.  
  
"I'm Elrohir. Well. fine. Tell me what it is and I'll keep a look out for it. But why are you bringing me along? I really. should. go. get. cleaned. off. ow." He tripped over his own feet, twisting his ankle slightly. Lovely. Just lovely. How could things possibly get any worse?  
  
That really wasn't the best question to ask. Ever.  
  
Elrohir? Elladan? He shot a look backwards at the twin, squinting his eyes. He normally never made the mistake - it must be bad lighting or - or something. Glorfindel let out a slightly undignified yelp again as Elrohir tripped. Yet as he was keeping a tight hold on the elf's arm, he had to stop and step back to keep his balance and that of Elrond's son. The elven lord should have realized by then that it was perhaps better for him not to be stepping back at the time. He slipped in Elrohir's mud-trail, his feet flew out from under him and he landed flat on his back. He blinked up at the ceiling, trying to fathom what had happened. He sat up, wincing at first as he made sure nothing was broken, and then began chuckling.  
  
"You really should be more careful, Ella- Elr-- son of Elrond!"  
  
Elrohir didn't answer, since when Glorfindel slipped down onto the floor, he'd gone with him. Giving a heavy sigh, and trying to keep a check on his temper, the Elf put a hand out, pushing his weight upon it to sit up. Unfortunately, the cursed mud he had put his hand in made that attempt fail, and Elrohir fell back down, banging his head on the floor in the process. Several. 'colorful' words followed, and he made up his mind to never wonder how it could get worse again. This was turning into a simply delightful and peachy day.  
  
Glorfindel was slammed unto the floor when Elrohir's body - for the third or fourth time - bumped into him, and by this time he decided that this was all pretty funny. He laughed - was almost giggling, but I will not dare say that an elven lord of his supreme age and temperament could giggle - as they floundered together on the floor. Eventually he just stopped trying to get up, sagging against the wall in a semi-upright position and laughing all the more. He nudged at Elrohir, sending him sprawling onto the floor all over again.  
  
"Really, you should probably get changed, Elladan," he giggled.  
  
Ella-Elladan? That sent the poor Elrohir over the edge, and he scrambled up, hands clenched at his sides. "For the last time! MY NAME IS ELROHIR! Not Elladan, not Elrond, not. not Arwen! Elrohir. EL-RO-HIR! Gaahahhhh." The mentally anguished Elf put a hand to his head, spinning around with every intention of leaving. But, of course, since the laws of irony and gravity make a lethal team, more mud sent him sprawling to the ground.  
  
"Elbereth give me strength." He murmured, closing his eyes in attempt to feel even the least bit closer to sanity.  
  
Glorfindel blinked sagely at him, only grinning brightly when he fell down. He had never had such fun in ages. "El-ro-hir? You mean all these years I was saying it wrong? I thought it was just - Elrohir," he giggled again. "I suppose then that Elladan isn't Elladan at all, but El-lad-an? Or - El-la- dan... Or... Ella-dan?"  
  
He couldn't figure out which, so he pouted a bit as he tried to come up with the answer. He wiped a speck of mud off of his robes, but it was of no use, as by now his robes were pretty much ruined in mudstains.  
  
Perhaps he himself would make like Glorfindel, and go find some wine as well. No. The last time that happened, he and Elladan were little, and they thought a bottle of wine 'someone' had left out was juice.  
  
"Yes indeed. El-ro-hir. That's most definitely how you pronounce my name. And I suppose all along your name is pronounced. Glor-fin-del? Or perhaps it's just Glorfy." Elrohir chuckled to himself, forgetting about any such manners, respect, or just plain intelligence.  
  
"Glorf--" this actually seemed to befuddle the ancient seneschal. He paused, his brow furrowed in concentration. "Hmm. Glor-fin-del... Glorfin- del... Glo- GLORFY?"  
  
Suddenly he realized that the twin - whichever he was - was being cheeky. He narrowed his eyes at him, anger replacing his giddiness. He stood up, for a moment towered above Elrohir, and then slipped and fell back down again. The humour of the situation returned, and he was reduced to giggling again.  
  
"Glorfy - Glorfy! I'll have you - your head--" he snickered and kicked out and Elrohir. "Why so wet, Ella-- Elrond's son? Eh? Did you go swimming or - or something? I hate swimming myself."  
  
Elrohir wanted to scowl-wanted to go stormy off down the hall and lock himself in his chambers forever more. but seeing the great Glorfindel, slayer of Balrogs and other mighty deeds so. giddy, just made a laugh escape his lips. This certainly would work well if he ever sought to blackmail the Elf.  
  
"Swimming? No. I was in a tragic accident that left me in a muddy ravine. Why are you wet and muddy?" He obviously knew, but he simply desired to hear what answer the drunk Elven captain had.  
  
Glorfindel scoffed at Elrohir. "Me? Wet and muddy? What are you --" suddenly he looked down at himself and the sad state of his robes, and he gasped in surprise. He would have jumped onto his feet, but he was able somehow to grasp onto the fact by then that if he stood up - he would fall down. So he stayed put, goggling. "Why, I am wet and muddy! How'd that happen! I - I must have... wow." He blinked. Then he looked, agog, at Elrohir. "Elro- Ella- Peredhel, I'm a mess! How did that happen?"  
  
Elrohir raised a brow, crossing his arms over his chest with a look of pure mirth in his eyes. "Don't you remember? Eh. Elladan. 'Accidentally' pushed you into a mud puddle." He finally replied, smirking inwardly at this lovely act of revenge upon his brother. If only he had been thinking that perhaps Glorfindel still thought him Elladan, thus seeking revenge on the wrong twin-even though the act was never committed. What a confusing predicament.  
  
"And. I think he was planning to tell father that. uh. you were in the. the wine cellars!" He really hoped the Elf didn't kill him when he became fully sober, or the Elven prince was doomed.  
  
Glorfindel narrowed his eyes, it all finally clicking together. Of course! Elladan. If he thought hard enough, he could almost - almost - ALMOST remember being pushed over by that twin! Though perhaps this memory was really a more recent one, when he and Elrohir tripped in the hall. He had no idea of the difference, though it seemed to be the perfect explanation for the mud on his clothes.  
  
"Oh, really?" he asked, furious. He got to his feet, almost slipped, and clung to a candle-sconce for dear life. He looked around him, as if knowing that he'd see the culprit twin just beyond his range of vision. "I shall find that - er - I'll find him and tell him what - er - I'll find him!"  
  
"Yes, yes indeed. He's a nasty one, that brother of mine." Elrohir continued, a feigned look of disappointed that Elladan would have the gall to do such a thing. "But don't be too hard on, my Lord. He's only misguided and-" He had to bite back a laugh. "I think perhaps just a little insane." And as if demonstrate, Elrohir tapped two fingers against his own head.  
  
Elladan would seek revenge, Glorfindel would seek revenge, and yet the situation was far too amusing to care. Would his brother ever stand there, chortles of laughter echoing through the air, while Elrohir lay at the bottom of a ravine again? It was doubtful.  
  
Glorfindel could not fathom how this had come to happen, but then again, he could barely fathom why it was that he came to be in the hallway. So he grabbed Elrohir, dragged him to his feet, and began stamping off back the way they came, snarling as he did so, "Push me... muddy... li-- OW!" he slipped again, dragging them both to the ground. He blinked, pulled he and Elrohir up again, and continued his dramatic trouncing. Suddenly he stopped dead, his eyes wide, for right in front of him was an ornamental mirror that Elrond had used as a decoration. He let go of Elrohir, and blinked at he and the twin's reflection. Then he turned on his heel and glared at the twin, completely forgotten he had dragged him with him.  
  
"Elladan!" he roared, pointing an accusitory finger.  
  
Elrohir gaped at Glorfindel, thinking quite a few curses in his head that could describe this predicament. "Wha-" He started off, eyes glancing over to the mirror. Lovely. This was not how his plan was supposed to go.  
  
"Eh. no. I am not Elladan. I'm Elrohir. you believe me? Remember? You." He trailed off, wishing that the floor would become liquid, and he could simply just sink into it. And so, he did the last thing someone who had just been marked guilty should do:  
  
He ran. Oh how Elrohir ran.  
  
Glorfindel ran after him, and after a few seconds of his rage-filled, all- out, dead-on sprint, he realized - or noticed - that he was completely, thoroughly, one hundred and fifty percent unsure why he was running after 'Elladan' in the first place. But he came to the logical conclusion that since, indeed, he was running, there had to be a reason, and so he kept on, yelling threats after the twin as he went. He turned a sharp corner after him, but sadly, as they were running back the way they had came, this was the corner where Glorfindel had previously tipped over the vase. He didn't notice the shimmering evidence of his mistake, and so ran right through it. Well, would have, if he had not slipped halfway through. The Elven lord took a mighty tumble. His legs slipped sideways from under him, he fell hard onto his shoulder because of his forward momentum. He rolled a few times until he landed on his back, and then laid still. 


	2. Two

"Not so fast, are you!" Elrohir called back; rather smug with himself that the Elf wasn't gaining on him. But after the threats stopped, Elrohir turned his head back, skidding abruptly to a stop. If Glorfindel had slipped, broken his neck and died– again- he'd get shipped off to the Grey Havens for a few centuries.  
  
"L-lord Gl-Glorfindel?" He stuttered, inching forward to make sure the captain was all right. "You're not... dead... or seriously injured... are you?" He muttered a prayer to Elbereth, coming to a halt to stand above Glorfindel, a dark eyebrow raised. "Glorfindel?"  
  
The elven seneschal had taken a sharp blow to the head, but it took more than that to render the lord Glorfindel unconscious or seriously injured. Yet as he lie there, slightly startled at what happened, he realized quite clearly that it was Elrohir standing over him – not Elladan at all. Then in a moment of comprehension, he saw then that he was being had. And Glorfindel, he who had lived long past in Gondolin, had been slayed by a Balrog and had spent years in the Halls of Waiting, was most definitely not one that took kindly to being had. And so, he stayed quite still until Elrohir crept closer, and then he lunged for the young elf, letting out a cry of triumph as he did so and caught at the twin's arm.  
  
Elrohir's optics widened suddenly, trying vainly to get from the Elf's grasp. Yet he knew it wouldn't work; Glorfindel was stronger than him in the long run. "Glorfy- indel... let me go! I've... I've done nothing! Father will be most displeased if you kill me!" It was rather amusing, the Peredhil running in place, like a rodent on a wheel of some sort.  
  
"I don't want to die... I don't want to die... oh Elbereth save me..." He murmured, feeling rather doomed at the moment.  
  
"Die? Of course you won't die," ground out the elven lord, drawing the struggling Elrohir close to him until their faces were inches apart. His blue eyes narrowed in a sly grin. "Dying is not good enough for you. I should know, I have died once, and it was nothing compared to what I will do to you, you cheeky little elfling! Did you think that you could so easily deceive I, Glorfindel of the house of the Golden Flower?"  
  
He didn't know this sounded poncey. But he didn't care. At one time it did sound quite intimidating - so do not blame the slightly tipsy elven lord of something he had no clue about.  
  
Had it been different circumstances, Elrohir would've burst out laughing at this. But no, the only thing he was doing was blinking slowly, gulping in true fear. Worse than death? Perhaps a tipsy Glorfindel was more dangerous than he thought.  
  
"W-what are you going to do, my Lord Glorfindel? S-so... powerful and... powerful?" For once, the almighty Elrohir, Prankster Prince and most sarcastic of them all, was at a loss for words. "S-surely you jest... like... I was! I was... only... joking... you... know? Ha... ha... ha." The last 'ha' came out as a pitiful whimper, averting his grey optics from Elf.  
  
The slightly drunken elven seneschal narrowed his eyes all the more, as if he had suddenly lost all ability of site, though it made him look intimidating none the less, bearing down on Elrohir like a falcon on a mouse. "Do I," he snarled, his voice a low timbre that rumbled like a trumpet of dh00m. "Do *I*, Elrohir Peredhel, son of Elrond, son of Celebrian, brother of Elladan, brother of Arwen, brothe-- no, that's it. Do I *look* like I am joking?"  
  
Elrohir blinked, really not being able to see his face so up close. That would certainly not be the best thing to comment on at the moment. "Well... not... particularly but... you've... always been... one to keep a straight face!" He attempted a smile, wondering if flattery would do the trip.  
  
He doubted it.  
  
"It—it wasn't my fault! You dragged me away when you broke that vase! It's all your fault!" The moment those words left his mouth, the Elven prince winced, regretting them. He suddenly realized that his life was hereby forfeit, under pain and torture of Glorfindel. Lovely.  
  
The blonde-haired elven captain gazed at Elrohir as if he could not comprehend his stupidity. No, truly, he just couldn't figure out whether what he had said warranted either instant death or slow torture. But instead, he blinked, pulled back a little, and then instantly dropped Elrohir and fell to the ground, taken over by fits of laughter.  
  
"My - my fault! HA!" he giggled - yes, he giggled. "My fault! HAHA! Good one, Elrohir, my fault! Ahahahahaha!"  
  
He gawked at Glorfindel, feeling too over-taken with shock to even take this as his chance to run. So, what does Elrohir do? Prove his utter cocky stupidity further. "Don't laugh you miserable Elf! It was your fault... All. Your. Fault. Why I should—I really ought to run." He trailed off, looking down at Glorfindel with a blank look.  
  
He was dead as a paralyzed duck being aimed at. Luckily, Elrohir wasn't immobilized—yet. He spun around, getting off to a fast start for about a half a second, before slipping on that same cursed mud and falling flat on his face. Only this time, he continued sliding on his face quite a few inches.  
  
Was there such thing as... floor burn? Well, he had it, if there was.  
  
Footsteps echoed throughout... well, everywhere. The footsteps did not make it sound as if the owner of the feet was wearing shoes, but rather was going barefoot. There was only one person who walked around barefoot, and she wasn't a person at all, but an elf. Lotesse Ithildin. "Glorfindel, you poncey elf, are you drunk again?" Lotesse's fair voice called out from around a corner, from which she appeared moments later. Her long straight golden hair was pulled behind her ears, a few stray strands falling into a fair elven face. Golden-brown eyes, odd for most elves, were narrowed just slightly as she looked down at the elven Lord giggling on the floor. She was also one of the only elves that dared call Glorfindel a ponce, a title he rightly deserved.  
  
Glorfindel sobered only long enough to look up at Lotesse and grin, but the sight of Elrohir falling flat on his face sent him into renewed hysterics. He wrapped his arms around his chest, his hands gripping his aching sides.  
  
"El-Elrohir is - is in fine form tonight, Lot-Lot-Lotesse," he snickered, leaning back against the wall and giggling some more. "He- he says it's - my fault! Mine! Haha-- drinking," he blinked, suddenly aware that he had been asked a question. He ogled Lotesse Ithildin with wide blue eyes. "Why, Elbereth, no. You see - Elladan - he pushed me into a ditch, and Elrohir said that he was Elladan, and I thought he was and -- heehee! He said it was my fault!"  
  
And then he began, once more, to burst into raucous peals of laughter.  
  
Elrohir was slightly dazed, yet was coherent enough to realize what the Elven captain had just said. Did... did he still believe that Elladan pushed him into a ditch? At this, he burst out laughing, rolling over on his back in hysterics.  
  
"If you... if you're not drunk, I'm a prancing Elf maiden in the rain!" He continued to laugh, seemingly having gone insane. "And Elladan never pushed you in! You broke a vase, and then slipped in my mud trail. Oh Elbereth... I haven't laughed like this in a long time." A poor Elf who had happened to pass by went wide-eyed at the sight of one of Elrond's twins and the Lord Glorfindel on the floor giggling.  
  
It was the end of the world. It must've been.  
  
Glorfindel gaped at Elrohir, taking in what the elfling said. Suddenly a sinister smile crossed over his ageless features. He chuckled darkly and raised himself gracefully to his feet, crossing his arms over his chest and towering over Elrohir as he did so. The fact that he swayed a bit and - did he hiccough? - he still looked imposing.  
  
"Ah, that is right," he said in a light tone. "You pushed me, master Elrohir, and so you broke your father's vase. And then you dragged me half across Imladris and told me lies about your brother. Tsk, tsk, at least I have a bit of an excuse for my drinking - you, my dear Elrohir, behave like an infant hobbit just out of pure - pure - what's the word - habit." He blinked, apparently not knowing where these words came from, yet pleased about them none the less.  
  
"You—"He was at loss for words again. Had he just been called an infant hobbit? Now that was going too far. Elrohir scrambled up, trying to look half dignified. It certainly wasn't working.  
  
"Not only are you poncey, you're a lying... a lying thing that... resembles... eh a... a wight! That's right." He'd never been too skilled at comebacks. Whose word do think father shall believe? Yours, or his own son's?" A grim shadow fell over his face, still not realizing that he was still blatantly insulting Glorfindel. "Well, perhaps he shall take yours but... you were the one who dragged me! You broke the vase... and you were—no, I was still the one who told you lies about Elladan. But that's not the point! Just... it's not fair!"  
  
So much for proving maturity.  
  
Glorfindel arched an elegant eyebrow at the younger elf, though he was now thoroughly enjoying himself and in his state the insults just rolled off of him like oil and water.  
  
"Yes, yes, neth-perenian," he said with a reserved smile. "Very good, very good. Yet I am afraid, young son of Elrond, that you are incapable of speaking your way out of a hobbit hole. Your insults are as weak as your literary skills, and I suggest you go back into the study with lord Erestor to brush up on them. Now, please, excuse me while I inform your father of your less than satisfactory behavior for the day..."  
  
Leave it to Glorfindel to use big words while he was smashed.  
  
Elrohir's face truly paled at the thought of facing his father... for about the third time within a three-month period. There was absolutely no chance he'd spend another perfect day stuck in the library, especially since he could be spying on Arwen and Estel having some snooky time together. ...Whatever snooky is.  
  
"You wouldn't really do that, would you? Besides... everyone would notice you're less than sober. Is there... is there nothing I can stop from doing such a petty thing? Besides, if I have to tell all of Imladris that the great Lord Glorfindel, was on the floor... giggling, I will, to stop you from doing this."  
  
Lovely, blackmail would surely do the charm.  
  
Glorfindel snorted at the very thought, and had a hard time to keep from being immersed in those very same giggles. But he managed a dark glare instead. It might be true – though he could not remember the event quite clearly, he had no doubt that he had been giggling on the floor. Yet the lord Glorfindel – as old as the hills – had been drunk many times before, and was caught in some surprisingly sticky situations. So long as he kept his wits about him for more than three minutes...  
  
"Do you think your father would believe such a thing, Elrohir?" he asked, almost chidingly, as if he was scolding a young – no, an infant hobbit. "I am not giggling now – am I?"  
  
Oh, how he felt like laughing at the look on Elrohir's face!  
  
"I—I could blackmail Elladan into saying he saw you as well. I could blackmail anyone... even you, if I had to." He smiled in an arrogant manner, feeling his usual cocky nature coming back once more, and even went so far as to pluck a golden hair from the Elf's head.  
  
"You see? With this one bit of hair, I could plant it by the broken vase or even better! I could plant it in the wine cellar. And then, my dear Glorfindel," He pointed at his sleeve, where there were slight, yet ever- there markings of where the Elven lord's fingers had been while dragging him along. "There is this proof, that you indeed did drag me, thus winning my case." He nodded triumphantly, raising a dark brow. Had that made... any sense at all? Probably not, but it made him sound smart.  
  
The elven seneschal was now far less than amused. His patience failing him, he took a step towards Elrohir, once again taking advantage of his superior strength, height, and – under normal circumstances – intelligence. He yanked his hair back out of Elrohir's hand, snatched a few of the twin's own dark strands, and then grinned in triumph.  
  
"Ha! Now I can plant you – to – hmm. Perhaps just outside the door to the Hall of Fire where Estel and Arwen have been ... ... ... speaking with each other this morning? Speak not of blackmailing one who has been blackmailing others since his birth! Remember not how Erestor was blamed for --" he blinked, realizing that perhaps he was saying something he shouldn't be saying. He shrugged. Next he pointed to his robes. "Covered in mud! Proof that you've been pushing me around, young Elrohir. I did that –"he pointed at his arm. "Only from sheer defense."  
  
Little did he know it, but by using his brain the effects of the alcohol began to become less and less. If Elrohir did not act soon, he would be faced with a very sober, and very annoyed elf of Gondolin.  
  
If any bit of sense or intelligence remained in him, Elrohir probably would've stopped now and accepted that Elrond would yell at him for a while, and then ship him off to the library... or if luck had abandoned him, off to the Grey Havens for a while. No. Not Elrohir. His pride and arrogance just made him be even mouthier.  
  
"Who's to say, then, it wasn't Elladan supposedly outside that door... which he probably is any way, and not me?" He crossed his arms, puffing out his chest to look more... Mean. "Oh yes, I always push around Elves, just for a sheer fun of it. And yet, that's odd. I wasn't the one rolling on the floor giggling, and obviously past the line of just 'tipsy'. You—you can't intimidate me!" He exclaimed the latter part, widening grey eyes for further effect.  
  
"And no one touches my hair!"  
  
It could've only been stupidity that made him pluck yet another light colored hair off Glorfindel's head.  
  
That was the last straw - or, well, hair. Glorfindel snarled in anger, and then in a split second he had grabbed a fistful of Elrohir's hair and pushed him back against the wall. Not that he was hurting the son of Elrond in any way - but he wanted to prove, once and for all, that he, the lord Glorfindel, elven captain and Elrond's old friend and seneschal, was not one to receive such cheek.  
  
"You - Elrohir - are indeed the finest example of an impudent whelp I have ever met," he said darkly. "You are either naturally daft or have taken a trip to the wine cellars yourself to have me mistake you for a spoiled humanling prince. And I, Elrohir, will touch your hair as much as I bloody well want to..."  
  
Elrohir simply stared, opening and closing his mouth several times, rather stunned that the drunk Elf had suddenly become so much more... well, sober. After a moment of simply gaping, he shook his head, nodding meekly.  
  
"I-I merely meant that... it's not fair of you... make up such lies about me, that could get me shipped off to Elbereth only knows where! I was only trying to get back at Elladan." He murmured, looking more like an Elfling being scolded.  
  
"The days are dark. I wouldn't truly blackmail you." Well, perhaps he might've before, but when a shadow was spreading over the land. "And eh... I only wanted your hair because it's... eh... shiny?"  
  
o_O 


End file.
